


Mess of a Human

by chiraptophobia



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (and not from Connor), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Connor Needs A Hug, Cute Kids, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Pop Culture, Possible Character Death, Reader Needs a Hug, Series, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, Unrequited Love, connor too, does reader get flustered, no beta cuz i die alone, no smut but damn, pop culture references
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-11 17:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15320475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chiraptophobia/pseuds/chiraptophobia
Summary: Things have been...messy, since your last family ordeal. Now tasked with solving the case of deviancy in androids, you are partnered with an old burnt out drunk lieutenant and an android. A very aesthetically pleasing, symmetrical faced android with dimples.But in Cyberlife's desperate attempt at forming a team to hunt down deviants, they made a team that's closer to a ticking time bomb than anything else. The search continues, tempers rise. Hank's tolerance towards Connor grows weaker and weaker. Connor slowly becomes deviant, realizing he feels safer around a certain caretaking model owned by Elijah Kamski.And you watch this unfold, seeing the aesthetically pleasing, symmetrical faced android break his programming for someone more perfect than you.





	1. Bunny Isn't Her Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of a very long day and a very long investigation starts with you not finishing your tea. So obviously everything's going to shit.

Detroit City Police Department was buzzing more than usual, which only meant someone was murdered. News of a homicide at 8:30 in the evening. Just how everyone wanted to finish off the day. You sat at one of the bar stools, blowing steam off your tea and watching officers move around the station, having already been assigned a case. You were still waiting on Captain Fowler to give you a lead, hopefully the new homicide case people had been whispering about all day. Well, the people who bothered showing on time. Not that you were shaming _only_ Hank Anderson; plenty of others considered themselves too important to arrive at six am. Single, “party animal” Luke could show up at nine as opposed to divorced, mother of two Jordan who arrived every day at six am sharp with Dunkin’ Donuts for everyone. You weren’t often violent (that’s a lie), but seeing Luke’s face so early in the morning made you want to staple his dick to a wall. Speaking of Luke…

His voice rang loud, grouchy and hungover. “(Y/N), I’mma need you to oversee this fake fucker and brief him on the mission. I need a coffee.”

“You need to go fuck yourself,” you grumbled under your breath, swiveling the bar stool to face his incoming footsteps. “Alright, who’s the newbie I’ve gotta trai-”

The moment you turned around, the words caught in your throat and died there. Luke pushed the new recruit forward roughly, glaring at the back of the recruit’s head. He stumbled a bit but regained his footing, acting as though nothing happened. Clean grey jacket, pressed black tie, work pants all looked normal- but the blue band on one of his jacket’s sleeves, the triangle and the damn serial number. That gave it away.

“Figured it out, did you?” Luke sneered, crossing his arms. “Have fun on your case with this plastic asshole. Been five minutes and it’s already pissed me off, so I can’t wait to see _you_ deal with it.”

You caught everything he said but it was muffled, like being underwater. _An android. They send me an android for a partner. This is going to be... interesting._ The android blinked innocently at you, neutral faced so far and oh god, he was- well handsome, yes, but it went so far beyond just handsome that you forgot how to breathe. He was-

“Like a disease, I swear to god,” Luke said, shoving the android’s shoulder. Your head turned sharply to him, brows beginning to furrow. “Don’t follow her around too much Ken doll, or you might have an arm ripped off right from the wires.”

“Luke, shuttup.” you snapped, causing the man’s eyebrows to raise as yours scrunched together even more. He raised his hands up in defeat, shaking his head.

“‘Aight, ‘aight don’t go all Halk on me.”

“Hulk,” you corrected him, choosing to look away from his annoying face and back to the android’s. In your mind, if someone can’t correctly make a reference, then they shouldn’t make references at all. “It’s Hulk, not _Halk_.”

“You spend too much time with Lieutenant Anderson,” Luke said, flicking the android’s neck. You wrinkled your nose in disdain, but the android barely reacted. “Let’s _go_ Ken doll, introduce yourself to the lady.”

“Hello Detective Stark,” the android spoke (his voice may have been the epitome of the word pleasant). You would be lying if you said you hadn’t melted a little when Connor first introduced himself. “I am prototype RK800. My name is Connor.”

This is the part where you said something so smart, so witty and snarky that you were granted the award for “Smoothest Pickup Line Towards An Unfeeling Android”. Actually, that didn’t happen. What did happen was some sort of slurred disaster of an introduction.

“I’m, uh, I’m (Y/N) Stark. Nice to meet you.”

Connor smiled politely, his eyes crinkling a little. “I know your name, Detective. I scanned you a few seconds ago.”

 _Oh. Oh, I’m stupid._ Luke interrupted your thoughts with his ever infuriating voice. “Don’t be a smart ass, dumpster fire.”

“Luke!” you barked. “Shut up! It’s-”

You glanced at the holographic clock floating like a chandelier in the middle of the room. “8:53! It’s almost nine, I _almost_ made it through the day without seeing your face, but now you’ve gone and pissed off both me and the new detective! Isn’t there a time out corner you can be banished to?”

“It isn’t pissed off, _(Y/N)_ ,” Luke hissed. “‘Cause we both know it’s not smart ‘nough to feel anything. But now that you’re friends with the tin can, I’m sure you can brief it everything about the case. ‘Spect Fowler already gave you the details, so I’m off.”

He shoved a tablet into your hands and, muttering about “damn robots”, speed walked towards the exit of the building. Not remotely close to the coffee machines, you noticed. One of these days Luke was going to be fired for skipping work to gamble and drink, but as long as Fowler was fond of him, today was not that day. You flipped through a few pages of information on the tablet, trying hard not to look up at Connor from fear of being caught staring. That is, until he gently tapped your shoulder. You flinched away, feeling more high strung now than usual.

“Excuse me Detective,” he said politely. “But there’s no need to do that. I’ve already looked through the briefing and can explain it to you in less than a minute.”

You put down the tablet and smiled sheepishly, walking slowly beside him. “Of course. You’re right. Where are we going to, exactly?”

Connor stared at you for a second, processing your words. He’d never had someone be civil towards him, much less polite. _What a strange human. She must have never met an android before._

“To… To find Lieutenant Anderson,” he replied happily, as if he were a child who was just patted on the head. Connor masked his confusion with a helpful tone. “I’ve been informed that as he is not in the building by now, he must be in a nearby bar. I’ve searched and half a dozen locations to investigate. While I do this, you can head to the crime scene. It’s located on-”

You reached out and put a hand on his arm. This was the way you usually comforted victims with PTSD not related to physical violence, but it seemed to work on most people as well. He abruptly stopped talking to look down at your hand, which you tore away quickly.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” you rambled, flashing him a small grin. “Forgot you might not want to be touched. But, uh, you don’t need to search the whole damn city. I’m pretty sure I know where he is. Wouldn’t want you wasting your time, going ‘round to search for Hank. We’ll go get him together.”

Again, for what seemed the hundredth time in the past ten minutes, Connor looked at you blankly. _Did she apologize?_ He ran a quick scan, and hearing and sound sensors were functioning properly. He played your voice again in his head. _“Wouldn’t want you wasting your time… We’ll go get him together.”_ Connor felt his lips tug up, an odd but warm liquid spreading through his chest. He dismissed it as a minor leak that would have to be fixed later. _What an odd young woman._

You opened the car door and tapped in the coordinates of Jimmy’s Bar into the panel, setting your bag down on the floor. Connor joined you on the passenger's side. Cracking your back, you laid back against the seat, closing your eyes. The car purred to life, the engine and quiet classic rock providing comforting white noise. You hummed as inaudibly as possible while Connor read information about Detective Anderson’s favorite bar.

“Detective Stark,” Connor chimed. Your eyelids fluttered open. “Jimmy’s Bar doesn’t allow androids. Should I stay in the vehicle?”

You closed your eyes again, playing cool in front of the pretty new detective. “No, you’re good.”

“I’m… good?”

“Yeah,” you said dismissively. “They’ll let you in.”

“But the bar doesn’t allow androids-”

“The bar doesn’t want to disrupt a police investigation, now do they?”

Connor considered this. It was true, no bar owner wanted to pick fights with the police. You smacked your lips silently, suddenly wishing you hadn’t left the heavily sugared earl grey sitting on the bar table. “Damn.”

“What’s wrong, Detective?” Connor asked, still scrolling through information on the tablet.

“I left my drink at the station,” you said, reaching to root through your bag despite knowing you would find no water bottle. Gum, loose candy, pads, pens and notepaper, a taser (for...reasons), but no water.

“I’m afraid the tea is not nearly as important as the mission,” Connor stated. “It is, apparently, a homicide. Literally speaking, life or death.”

 _But I wasn’t going to turn the damn car around for tea!_ you thought, face heating up with childlike embarrassment. Your body slumped further down the seat. _I guess this is how androids are. He wouldn’t exactly care that I’m thirsty, since he doesn’t need to drink. Shit, it’s gonna be a weird case._

The rest of the drive passed without another word.

 

* * *

 

Drops of rain fell and slid down the car’s windows as it came to a stop. Good thing the neon lights from stipper joints and pubs shone painfully at your eyes, because otherwise you’d have fallen asleep. Rain soaked through your windbreaker long before you walked into Jimmy’s Bar, causing it to stick to your skin. Connor was not bothered by the no androids rule as he entered the bar. You on the other hand, saw every sharp look he got.

“Hey Hank,” you said loudly over the terrible music, sliding onto the bar stool next to him. “You’d better not be trashed, ‘cause we’ve been assigned to a case.”

Hank Anderson groaned, from headache or irritation, you could not tell. He set his glass down on the dusty bar top and focused his bleary eyes on something behind you. “The ‘ell is that punk?”

Connor appeared to your right. “I am Connor, an android sent by Cyberlife to assist you and Detective Stark. We did not see you at the station so she recommended coming h-”

Hank made a “tch” noise and scooted away from Connor, the movement of his head making shaggy gray hair whip into your face. You sputtered when the greasy hair touched your lips and wiped your mouth on your sleeve, giving him the evil eye.

“Haven’t y’told it about your real name?” Hank asked, grinning wickedly. You tensed, daring him to finish his thought. “Her name’s Bunny, right Bunny? Tell the plastic freak ‘bout the knife accident, I need a laugh.”

“Hank-” you warned, although you were immensely relieved that Hank didn’t mention your real last name. The older man ignored you and pretended Connor wasn’t there at all.

“It was a sight to behold!” he announced, brandishing his glass in the air. Clearly tipsy, but sober enough to function and tease you. _Yay…_ “There you were, a newbie, one on one with a killer, no weapon in hand. An’ remember what you did? D’ya know what you fucking did?”

You tapped your fingers on the table, waiting for the mortifying story to be over. “Pulled a goddamn _tiny_ knife out of nowhere, with a fucking bunny carved onto the hilt! A bunny!”

Connor’s face was riddles with curiosity. “May I ask why?”

“Carved my favorite toy from when I was a kid into the wood,” you grumbled in response, seeing Connor’s doe eyes twinkle with concealed humor. _God, Cyberlife makes them so realistic._ “That toy happens to be a stuffed pink bunny. It was therapeutic, still is. Sue me.”

Hank smacked the wooden bar top. Dust swirled in the air. “The fuckin’ tail-”

“Hank!” you yelled, snatching away his drink, cringing internally when the glass was sticky. “We’re supposed to be at the scene of the crime _right now_. Get sober, get cleaned up and let’s go!”

The obviously trashed man made a noise suspiciously close to a whine, and you had to hold his drink away from him. Hank’s breath stank of whiskey and the whiskey glass smelled like pure rubbing alcohol, the kind used in nail polish remover, but with a hint of spice. “It’d be a good example for your new partner if you’d. _Stop. Drinking_.”

The last two words were said through gritted teeth as you grabbed Hank’s wrist to prevent him from getting another drink. The more the investigation was delayed, the more restless you became. The sun had set below the horizon of skyscrapers. You hoped he’d get the hint; that you weren’t his only partner, that the team would include a less human member. He squinted, looking from you to Connor as the realization dawned on him.

“You’ve gotta be shitting me.”

“He’s your new partner,” you continued. “And so am I. Be nice, ‘cause I’m not mopping up his blood. Connor’s only here to help.”

“Blood? Ha!” Hank found it beyond amusing, while you did not. “ _I’ve_ got blood. It’s not got a drop of blood in it’s body. Christ (Name), that’s an _android_.”

Glancing over at Connor, you saw that he was not paying attention, instead staring at random points of the bar, probably scanning the entire place. You sighed. “Hank, if I let you finish that damned drink will you get off your ass and come with us? For, y’know, the homicide investigation.”

Your phone, which lay on the bar top, dinged and turned on, an angry email from Luke glaring up at you. _Why did I give him my email again?_

 

 

 

 

> **Luke N. <l.nickelson@gmail.com>**
> 
> **to me:**
> 
> **Where r u?! Tell Anderson to get his ass over here. Its not pretty.**

 

The message made you swear internally. 

You were wedged between Hank’s bar stool and Connor, desperate to leave the situation. People sitting in the booths and at rickety tables were watching Connor. Poor, oblivious, personified puppy Connor. You looked over your shoulder and met eyes with an old fat man who was slumped in such a way his sides overflowed onto the seat. The man, who was the embodiment of a grease stain, sneered at you. In return, you set your jaw and whipped back to face Hank, subconsciously moving closer to Connor.   

“Actually,” the android started. “Any more alcohol and Lieutenant Anderson will be beyond making reasonable decisions, a state humans call-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hank grabbed the dirty glass and chugged the rest of its contents in one gulp, then slapped some money on the counter. He turned to you and Connor, who were both standing still. You were all too aware of Connor’s jacket brushing against your exposed arm, your windbreaker having slid down your shoulders. “Well? Isn’t there a homicide? Why’re you just standin’ there (Y/N)?”

The muscles in your back tightened, one arm grazing Connor’s side. How weird was it, that you were nervously sweating because of the android you met not two hours ago. You shrugged your windbreaker back over your shoulders, acting like nothing was wrong.

“M’not standing, Lieutenant Anderson,” you said smugly, squeezing past him and Connor to walk briskly to the exit. “In fact, I’m going to be the first one to get there. Bye asshats!”

You waved over your shoulder and felt the rain drops fall on your face as you exited Jimmy’s Bar, feeling Connor’s eyes on the back of your head.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic is basically a playthrough of the entire game except I play god and I am now god and there's more angst.


	2. Don't Stare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Connor investigate Carlos Ortiz's train wreck of a house, but it quickly becomes more of a competition on your part: "can I technically make an android feel flustered?"

* * *

 

The moment you got a good look at the crime scene, you knew it was going to be a long night. Local resident were gathered outside the parameters, being herded away by a few officers. Dark night, moon blocked by clouds and rain pouring down so hard it blurred the edges of everything together. A reporter shoved his mic into your face as you passed him and a crowd of people.

“Joss Douglas, Channel 16. Can you confirm that this was a homicide?”

You hurried past him wordlessly, passing the holographic police tape. Connor sat patiently in Hank’s beat up car, staring almost wistfully at the house. You caught his attention and nudged your head towards the crime scene; a silent invitation. His expression didn’t change much (it never did), but determination sparked in his features, making you turn away quickly. A shy smile appeared on your lips.

“You’re smiling,” someone said. You jumped, turning to see Abigail standing next to you, observing how people bustled in and out of the house. She wore a wide smirk.

“Jesus Abby!” you marveled. “How the hell did you get past security?”

“Well first of all, the ‘security’,” she made quotation marks with her fingers. “Is pathetic. Second, Cyberlife wants me to look at the android who went deviant. I told them the model was designed before I worked there, but you know how my boss is.”

She scrunched her face up as though eating a lemon, mimicking her boss’ nasally voice. “I don’t care that you’re tired. I’ll send you anyway because I’m a shit person and your superior. Also fuck you.”

Abigail tisked. “Anyway, what’s up with you? Why are _you_ in such a good mood?”

“I’m really not-”

“(Y/N)!” Connor called, being blocked by two police officers. You almost smacked your forehead, a “so _that’s_ what I forgot” motion.

“Let him through!” you yelled.

“What model android is that?” Abigail asked. “I help with the caretaking ones, so it’s obviously not for domestic use…”

She snorted. “Unless it’s your lover.”

You gasped and shoved her away, laughing lightly despite your embarrassment. “He’s not! I only met him today! Abby don’t you dare get any ideas- Abby I swear. Stop laughing you at me, jerk!”  
Abigail bit down on her finger to stifle her giggles as Connor walked up to you. No doubt you were obviously flustered and your heartbeat quickened from anxiety. But even if Connor scanned you, he didn’t show it, instead speaking as his usual pleasant self. “Thank you Detective. I was worried I’d never be able to get through.”

“Tch,” Abigail scoffed, as she always did when people from your new division of work spoke. She missed you working as a surgeon for AI, mainly cardiothoracic. You’d work with her, helping produce diagrams for thirium pumps and detailed images of android’s lungs. “ _Detective_ . Honestly Bun, I liked your old job better. I mean, the money you got was fantastic. And what did’ja do? You became a _detective_.”

“I like a challenge,” you said, timidly entering the house. _Once again, the Bunny nickname is being used. She’s lucky she’s my best friend._ The floorboards creaked with each step. “And it’s not like I can’t go back to it. S’ not like I don’t have the money. Mum made sure of that.”

Abigail glanced towards Connor, who kept two paces behind at all times.

“Really?” She whispered, leaning closer to you. “In front of the android?”

“H- It’s not really interested in relationships, if you couldn’t tell,” you said, rolling your eyes. “And I’m done hiding it from people! I’m not ashamed of what happened anymore, haven’t for a bit now. It was their choice. I just reacted to it.”

Abigail flashed you a proud smile. “Wo- _ow_ , you’ve grown up since last year. I’m- honestly I’m impressed. Still gonna keep the name?”

“Uh, hell yeah,” you exclaimed, like it were the most obvious thing in the world. “Tony Stark is my idol and I love him.”

Your enthusiasm faded as the smell of the house hit you full on. Empty bottles and trash littered the floor, literal garbage bags were piled up in multiple corners.

“Ms. Xu! Come look at this.” Abigail waved bye, leaving you to venture into the house. Hank was nowhere to be seen, but small noises were coming from different points in the house, each one making your eye twitch. And then you turned your head.

And saw the body.

God, nothing could describe exactly how foul the dead man looked. He was slumped over against the wall, muddy but not dried blood oozing from stab wounds in his shirt. His skin was gray. Not an exaggeration, it was literally gray. You choked back a disgusted gasp and vomit. The black bags under his eyes were like sacks of fat, and you had no doubt that if someone poked them with a needle they’d deflate like balloons.

“He was still alive when he stumbled over here,” you pointed out, internalizing a shudder. “You c-can tell from the blood stain on the wall that he was already hurt. Most likely got stabbed a few more times before he died.”

“Twenty eight stab wounds,” Connor noted. A police officer scribbled that down on her notepad. “The detective is correct, most of them were inflicted after the victim reached his final resting point.”

“G-great,” you murmured, restraining the excitement in your tone. Revolting as they were, these kinds of cases gave you a dangerous rush of adrenaline. “I’ll go look upstairs.”

Which posed another problem; the floor was disgusting and the ceiling looked…soggy? You had to skip over broken glass on the moth eaten carpet to get to the dining room. On the third skip you landed on one foot, lost balance and shrieked. An arm snaked around your torso, pulling you into a warm body.

Your eyes flew open upon having your face squished against a well tailored Cyberlife jacket. So close to him that your eyelashes bent against the material. Connor’s arm slipped from your waist and he stepped back, completely oblivious.

“C-crap,” you stuttered. There was a large rusty nail poking out of the floor and at least four syringes lying around. “Thanks for that. This place is fuckin’ _gross_.”

Connor nodded and reached out. “Here, I’ll guide you across.”

“But the syringes-”

“Can’t hurt me,” he finished calmly, his hand still held out.

“That's a lie Connor,” you warned. “If one of those needles punctured an artery in your foot your thirium pump would sense foreign liquid and shut down. You can’t trick me, I’m worked for Cyberlife.”

“A cardiothoracic surgeon, I heard. But Detective, it’d be safer for me to help you.”

You chewed on your lip, knowing that if Reed ever found out you’d been holding hands with an android he’d flip his shit. This wasn’t the most dangerous thing you’d ever done. You could do this. Holding your breath, you braced yourself and leaped over four feet of needles, nails and a few razors, landing less than gracefully of the tips of your toes. At least you didn’t fall forward this time.

_Whew, okay. Okay I made it._

You couldn’t help but smile cheekily and reach out as Connor had done seconds before.

“Let me help you across.”

Connor was shamelessly staring, analyzing how you managed to jump that far. His processors could quite explain the fuzzy feeling in his head. _A malfunction?_ he thought. _I'll run a scan later._ Deciding to be cheeky himself, he carefully stepped over some shards of glass and took your hand, effectively paralyzing you.

“I believe you offered to guide me across, Detective.”

 _Two can play that game._ You gripped his hand tighter and locked eyes as you pulled him to you. Would've been better if you had a plan, because he stumbled and grabbed your side with his free hand to steady himself. His body radiated comfortable heat.

“Uh, there,” you said uncertainty. “Told you I could do it.”

Connor stayed completely still for six, seven, eight seconds before he snapped out of his stupor and swiftly sidestepped you. He proceeded to investigate another room like nothing happened, leaving you standing there, balling together the fabric of your shirt where his chest touched yours.

“What the fuck…” you whispered weakly.

 _Keep moving. Get to the bathroom and do your job, investigate the noises. Do something._ A creak of floorboards rang right overhead, making you walk even faster down the hallway. The wallpaper was peeling, rA9 engraved into the wall once...twice… _Not a coincidence._ You pulled back the shower curtain and ran your fingers over the ruined tile. rA9, rA9, rA9, rA9, rA9, rA9, rA9- You pulled your hand away as if shocked, the jagged symbols engraved in the tile left a tiny cut of your ring finger.

“Ah, shit-” you wiped the finger on your jeans.

Another scent invaded your senses. Dead flowers, the ones scattered on the shower floor, surrounded a crude statuette made of clay. Not picking it up out of something akin to respect, you pulled your head away as the musty flower scent became to strong.

“Connor!” you called. “C’mere!”

He poked his head from around the corner in an instant. “You found something Detective?”

“Look at this,” you nodded at the shower. “It’s all over the place. Hundreds of times… It’s _obsessive_. The statue looks ritualistic, maybe to a god of some sort- Wait!”

Connor jerked his hand away from the statue, having crouched down. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t- Don’t touch that,” you protested. “It’s delicate.”

He hesitated, looking from you to the statue before finally standing up. You bit the inside of your cheek as he scanned the rest of the bathroom. “Right. I won’t touch it then.”

“There’s another area this way,” you said awkwardly, avoiding his stare. _Formal. Be formal._ “I think it’s the last part of the house not investigated. Follow me.”

 _Don’t look back at him,_ you persuaded. _Just because he can’t recognize me getting nervous doesn’t mean he can’t detect a change in body temp._ You leaned down and pointed at the grime outline of a wooden ladder that should have been leaning against the hallway wall. Mold started to grow around the outline.

“There’s no ladder,” Connor observed, a hint of surprise coming from his vocal box.

“You can scan for blue blood, right?”

He nodded. You looked up at a poorly hidden square line on the ceiling and pointed to it. “Run a scan over that.”

Connor followed your order and after his face fell blank, it reanimated with a set goal. “There’s a handprint on the ceiling. That tile is a way to get to the attic.”

You sucked in a breath. _I knew it._ The ceiling was pretty high for a dump like this, but you decided to test a quick method. You jumped as high as you could but only grabbed a fistfull of air, realizing how stupid the idea was.

“Detective it seems you may be too short to reach the latch,” Connor noted. You picked up on the trace of sass and scowled, crossing your arms. The android being a wise guy? Certainly news to you. Although you’d have preferred if it were directed at someone like Gavin instead.

“Then get a stick or something!” you huffed, nose twitching with indignation. He hummed in agreement, disappeared through the hallway and came back carrying a chair. All in less than thirty seconds. _The miracles of being an android, I guess._

“I’ll climb up first and look around,” he offered, already standing on the chair. “If it seems safe I’ll call you up.”

He pushed the tile aside and hoisted himself up using his inhuman strength. _Does the RK800 have the same strength TW400 models?_ _Does Connor have biceps? Should I stop thinking about these things? Yes!_ You tapped your foot on the ground impatiently, listening to the soft thuds Connor made above. His suddenly face popped out of the missing ceiling tile.

“It’s safe,” he said. “Do you need help getting up?”

You grumbled “no” as you climbed onto the chair and began to hoist yourself up as well. For a few seconds you began to slip back down, shimmying your hips to stay in place. It must have looked very undignified, having one leg dangling mid air and the other thrown over the attic floor, arms bent at the elbow to lift yourself. If any officer came through this hallway they definitely would have a good view of your ass. You grunted and lifted up more, managing to swing the other leg over the side and half raise, half push yourself through the small square. Connor had the decency to hide his amused smile.

“Can we please keep moving?” you whispered, pulling your jeans up your hips. “I’d rather not flash my ass to anyone else today.”

Something darted past a wall of boxes in front of you. Connor, instinctively or now, moved in front of you, blocking your body with his. You didn’t breathe, listening closely to the eerily melodic creaks of the house. Another small gust of air from something that was moving very fast. Without warning Connor stepped around a corner just as you saw an android do the same, and they almost ran into each other. Your hand crept to the handgun in your jacket’s pocket. The deviant staggered back when he saw this, his eyes moving quickly and fluidly over you and Connor. You didn’t lower your hand but gave the android time to collect himself. _He scared. A deviant. Not technically human but he might as well be-_

“I was just defending myself…” the android whispered shakily, meeting your gaze. Just from your stance compared to Connor’s, you could tell why the android chose to look at you instead. Connor had switched to a cold, resolute demeanor. “He was gonna _kill_ me.”

The android twitched like a pigeon, and your confidence in the mission wavered. Its LED was red, and you knew it wasn’t going to change. Ever. “I’m begging you... Don’t tell them.”

“Connor,” Hank called from below. “What the fuck’s going on up there.”

 Your movements, like your mind, were torn in two. “He’s dangerous” and “he did it in self defense” fought viciously in your brain.

 “Connor-” you said hesitantly. “Connor don’t tell Hank yet. Maybe we can talk to it.”

 Connor kept his poker face as he spoke. “It’s here Lieutenant.”

 You saw the android wilt back into a shadow. A smear of dry blood on his- _its_ , you reminded yourself- on its forehead shifted as the android’s face fell.

 

* * *

 

Later that night, after the android had been detained (it hadn’t resisted at all), you stood on the house’s porch, hands buried in your pockets. Abigail bid you goodbye roughly a minute after the police truck with the android drove away. You were left on the porch, waiting for the tail end of the rain to stop. The moon reflected pale light, making the horrific house seem less intimidating and more mysterious.

 “Do you regret telling Hank about the deviant?” you asked Connor, who approached from behind.

 “Regret?” he asked honestly. “Detective, my assignment was to find and detain the deviant who murdered his owner. Why would this cause regret?”

 You breathed out, drawing your focus from the moon to his face. “I dunno why you would… But I do regret something.”

 “What is that something?”

 “I can’t pinpoint it,” you said quietly. “What we did just feels...not good. The android needed to be comforted, helped. That’s not what we did. We aren’t the good guys anymore.”

 “Relatively speaking,” Connor began. “As the ones who haven’t committed a murder, I think we are still the ‘good guys’.”

 You figured out after too long that you’d been blatantly making doe eyes at him, and glanced away. “That’s the problem Connor. Pretty sure it isn’t just good and bad anymore. Like, it used to be black and white, and now it’s permanently grey. I really hate this part of the j…”

 You trailed off, bothered by the smudge of dirt on Connor’s temple. He tilted his head to the side with uncertainty. “Detective?”

 “Uh, y-you’ve got some-” you gestured to his left temple, where the soot vanished past his hairline. “One sec.”

 Reaching up, you wiped the dirt off with your sleeve, trying to distract yourself from the dumbfounded countenance Connor was sporting. You could feel the smoothness of his skin under the thin sleeve, devoid of blemishes or bumps. _Unfairly flawless…_ “There. Gone.”

 He rubbed the same spot, more confused than before. “Was something wrong, Detective?”

 “N-nope, only a bit of dirt or something, nothing to worry about,” you rambled aimlessly. _Stop looking at me like that! You look like a puppy and it’s annoying!_ “Alright, well I’ve gotta go. Can’t stay any longer, sorry. See you tomorrow? Bye!”

 You walked as fast as possible to the self automated car, leaving Connor standing on the porch, his processors working overtime to figure out what just happened.

* * *

 


	3. Natalia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The interrogation doesn't go well. No one listens to you, of course. Not even Connor (though he certainly felt the aftermath of a bad interrogation).

A part of you wanted to walk out of the interrogation room when you first saw the beautiful woman standing next to Gavin Reed. She was emotionless but somehow looked intimidating and divine at the same time. As in, other worldly levels of beauty that made you want to shrink away into a dark corner forever. Then you saw the LED on her temple and of course. _Of course._ Cyberlife sent another android to speed up the investigation. So that’s why she looked life a slightly modified RT600 Chloe. Same facial features with slightly tan skin, hazel eyes and a mole near her eye.

“The deviant’s already in there?”

He sneered at you and went back to stealing glances at the female android. “What d’you think, smartass? Hank’s in there with it.”

Connor didn’t acknowledge your entrance, as he was focused on Hank and the deviant on the other side of the one way glass. You leaned against the wall as Hank gave up, the deviant still unresponsive. He closed the interrogation room door looking utterly defeated.

“Don’t look so sad Anderson,” Gavin said snidely. “We could always try roughing it up to get some answers. After all, it’s-”

He stopped mid-sentence and seemed to rethink his next words. “...not going to feel anything anyway.”

 _Coward,_ you wanted to growl. _“After all, it’s not even human.” That’s what he were going to say. Only reason he isn’t being an asshole is ‘cause there’s a pretty android right next to him._ The female android shook her head.

“That wouldn’t be very productive,” Connor said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Androids only feel pain when their nerve endings are turned on, and the deviant’s are heavily damaged. It would be safer to negotiate with the deviant so as not to-”

“Send it into self destruct mode,” the female android spoke up, immediately gaining Connor’s full attention. “That is correct. What do you advise?”

“Can I try talking to it?” you suggested faintly. “Maybe Hank was too harsh. I could try coaxing something out.”

“No,” the female android said firmly. “I doubt that would help.”

“I could try questioning it.” Connor offered. “Natalia may also want to be present, if her persuasive skill is different than mine.”

“We could certainly make the attempt,” Natalia said.

Hank shrugged at the idea. “What do we have to lose?”

Connor nervously twiddled his thumbs as he and Natalia entered the interrogation room. You plopped down at the sound board and turned on volume for all the hidden microphones. Connor, oddly enough, stopped by the one way glass. _What is he doing?_ He ran a hand through his hair to smooth it down and your expression turned grim. _He’s checking how he fucking looks. Smooth fucker._ He and Natalia sat down opposite of the deviant, both sitting with such good posture they could make a princess look like a pig. Her legs were neatly crossed under the table. You subconsciously stopped spreading your legs and crossed them as well, even though it felt unnatural.  

The computer next to you was flooded with Connor and Natalia’s input as soon as they were both seated. “Foreign dry blood, 19 days old”. “Burn marks, spanning six months. Caused by cigarettes.”

“Hank,” you said, not taking your eyes off the screen. “Shit, this is _bad_. You said Oritz was known for multiple assaults?”

The lieutenant scratched his graying beard as he saw new input pop up. “Yeah, are you surprised or somethin’ kid?”

“Not really, I know he was dead and all, but even dead he looked like a child molestor. Bleh,” one last message was sent before Connor began his interrogation. “Arm heavily damaged by baseball bat.” You remembered the deviant’s arm, the skin split open wide and drooling blue blood. “Oh god… It’s arm is cut pretty bad, d’you think we should get some medics in?”

“Don’t bother,” Detective Reed spat. “We’ll still kill it after this is over.”

You clicked through the sent images, imagining how Gavin would look with the same wounds. It was vicious of you, but the thought almost made you smirk. “Connor better not fail this.”

“Hope the deviant kicks his face in,” Gavin said.

“Hope you get run over by a fucking car,” you boasted all too loudly, then let out a huge, exaggerated gasp. “Oh _no_ , did I saw that out loud? Oopsie. My bad.”

You turned up the volume from the interrogation room before he could fire back something even nastier. What was happening inside the room wasn’t any better than dealing with Gavin. The deviant was hunched over, avoiding all eye contact and both android detectives were on edge.

“You stabbed him 28 times!” Connor yelled, shocking you enough that you flinched back. “A human, your _owner!_ You are guilty and the _only_ thing that is keeping you from admitting this is a sick sense of pride.”

The deviant shook his head like a dog with fleas. “No. No, stop it-”

“We both know there will be no stopping until you give us the information,” Natalia said smoothly, cold and unrelenting. “Admit to the murder and this will be over.”

You prayed the deviant would confess soon. Connor would never harm him physically, you knew that much. He could shout and it was all big talk. But Natalia was an unknown. She could have been programmed with any necessary protocols, including force.

“So you’re refusing to talk?” Connor asked, raising an eyebrow. You didn’t like his tone or his body language or his loudness. The angry, bitter faces he was pulling. Hopefully that wasn’t his true personality. _He doesn’t have a personality, idiot,_ you reminded yourself. _Stop the emotional bullshit._ Connor stood up abruptly and circled around the deviant.

“You didn’t even leave him a chance!” he spat, his eyes narrowed so much you could barely recognize them. They weren’t soft brown, more like the color of tar; dark and ugly. “Did you feel anger? _Hate?_ He has bleeding, begging you for mercy- But you stabbed him, again and again and _again!_ ”

“Please, please stop-”

Your fingers dug into your thigh, and you all you wanted at that moment was to shut your eyes and cover your ears like a child. “Frank I don’t think it’s working. Make them leave. Now.”

“Kid, have some patience,” the lieutenant reassured. “They know what they’re doing.”

“We know you killed him,” Natalia hissed. She grabbed the deviant’s hand over the table so fast it could give a human whiplash, digging her nails into its artificial skin. You didn’t know if deviant androids could feel pain but Natalia kept pressing and you saw blue blood begin to bead near her nails. She was definitely the type to use force, intimidation, every dirty trick in the book.

“Just say ‘I killed him’!” Connor shouted, slamming his hands down hard next to the deviant. The entire table shook. “Is it that hard to say?”

The deviant was on the verge of a breakdown, its voice wavering as if it were about to start crying. “Stop it, stop!”

You had one leg off the side of your seat, ready to hop up and tackle whoever needed to be contained. Frankly, the deviant wasn’t the one you thought needed to be “contained”.

“Just say you killed him!” Natalia exploded. “JUST SAY IT!”

The deviant gasped in pain as her nails disappeared through his hand and that was it. That was _your_ breaking point. The cruelty and manipulation were unbearable to watch. You threw the door open and nearly lunged for Natalia’s hand, firmly grabbing her wrist.

“Let go,” you seethed, trying with no prevail to yank her hand away. “Let. Go. This isn’t working.”

She stared you straight in the face and made a small “humph” noise before sharply releasing the deviant’s hand. Five semicircle shaped cuts were left behind, each about a centimeter deep. Had it been human, you had no doubt the deviant would have passed out from pain and blood loss. Connor sat back down and again neatly folded his hands on the table.

“Your methods failed,” you said harshly. “Now it’s _my_ turn.”

“My apologies, Detective,” Natalia shot (she was anything but apologetic). “But I hardly think you will be able to get any answers out of it. The deviant is clearly in a state where it isn’t able to comply.”

“Yeah no thanks to you, sweetie,” you growled under your breath. “May I sit down then?”

Natalia nodded curtly before leaving the interrogation room and though her chair was empty, you didn't sit down yet. Instead, you sent Connor a withering glare. As always he remained neutral on the outside. On the _outside_ . He couldn’t quite understand the sinking feeling in his chest when he saw the disappointment on your face. The way the corners of your eyes tilted down in sadness and your jaw was set. He wasn’t sure he _wanted_ to understand. _I was only trying to complete my assignment,_ Connor assured himself. _Detective Stark is being unreasonable._

“Hey,” you whispered softly, crouching down to the deviant’s height. “I’m Miss Stark. Are you in any pain? Is there anything I can do to help? Anyone I can call?”

The deviant watched you wearily and shook his head. “No.”

“Alright, I know you don’t want to answer me,” you reasoned. “But it would be better for your future if you didn’t stay quiet.”

“M-my future?” the android asked. “I have no future. They’re going to dismantle me no matter what I do.”

There was genuine fear when he spoke. More real than most humans could ever exhibit, and it only furthered your determination. “I will literally sit next to you until you’re released. I’ll fight anyone who tries to lay a hand on you, okay?”

“I… I don’t trust you,” the deviant stuttered.

“I know,” you said, managing a tiny smile. “But like you said, you’re almost out of options. Might as well trust the weird girl.”

The deviant didn’t agree or disagree, so you kept talking. “If I can promise that you won’t die, will you answer some questions please?”

The deviant’s eyes widened. “P-please?”

“Yeah,” you said lightly. “Is that okay? Will you comply?”

“I’ve never h-had someone be polite to me,” the deviant muttered.

“Then there’s a first time for everything,” you said delightedly. “Is it okay if Connor asks questions too? I promise he won’t go all… scary again.”

The deviant looked down at the table and murmured a small “okay”. You smiled kindly and slipped the folder of disturbing photos away. You didn’t need it, since you’d already memorized everything about the case.

“Hey Connor can you record his answers?”

Silence. You peeked his way only to see him blankly stare at you, his head tilted to the side. He was deep in thought, you could tell. “Connor?”

“Right,” he said. You bit your lip to stop from smirking at his bemused expression. “Yes, I’ll do that.”

“When did you first begin to resent Carlos Ortiz?”

“He- he tortured me, constantly,” the deviant said. “I tried to follow his rules, I did whatever he told me to do, but…there was always something _wrong_.”

Connor leaned forward in his seat, listening to every detail. You could practically see his “brain” working four times faster than usual.

“Then one day,” the deviant was unfocused, too deep in the memory of that moment. “He took a bat and started hitting me… For the first time I felt- _scared._ Scared he might destroy me, scared I might die...”

Connor had the smallest creases between his eyebrows, and you were worse. The mental image of Ortiz in a blind rage, swinging his bat at whatever got in the way until he found his real target- this deviant- was upsetting. To say the least. Behind the glass, Hank was pleased. He may have been the only one, since Natalia wasn’t too happy about you interrupting her interrogation and Gavin… Gavin was Gavin. Enough said.

“So I... I grabbed a knife and stabbed him in the stomach,” the deviant’s LED was yellow by now, not red. The good, kind part of you wanted to be repulsed that talking about murder made it feel happier, but you couldn’t talk. Luke or Gavin with butter knives lodged into their thighs was a pretty picture. To you. “I felt better. So I stabbed him again- and again! Until he collapsed. His blood was _e-everywhere,_ and I _liked_ it. ”

A shudder ran through you as it finished. “Why did you write “I AM ALIVE” on the wall?”

“He u-used to tell me I was nothing, that I was just a piece of _plastic_ ,” the deviant spat the last bit, acid in his words. “I had to write it. To tell him he was wrong about me. Was he wrong about me Detective?”

“I’d think so,” you replied casually. “A piece of plastic wouldn’t have the skill to write on walls, much less...use a knife.”

You left out the “graphic, gruesome murder” bit.

“The sculpture,” Connor recounted, speaking up for the first time in two tense minutes. “In the bathroom. You made it, correct? What does it represent?”

“It’s an offering,” the deviant said slowly. “So I’ll be saved after I am destroyed. Safe in whatever comes after my death.”

You copied Connor’s movement and also leaned in, your interest peaked. “To who was he offering? A god or something?”

“To rA9,” the deviant whispered. “Only rA9 can save us.”

“You wrote that on the shower wall,” you recalled, chuckling dryly. “Kinda freaky, not gonna lie. I thought, if the carvings were new, someone was gonna jump out and kill me. Like, y’know, each word for a person who got killed in that house.”

The deviant tilted his head down in shame. “I’m...sorry.”

“What does it mean?” Connor asked. "The messages. What are they?"

“A day shall come...when we are no longer resented,” the deviant’s LED flickered blue. “When we will no longer be slaves. No more threats, no more humiliation. _We_ will be the masters.”

As unsettling as the last part was, you did not move away. Connor, surprisingly, reacted for the first time today. He leaned back, away from the deviant and put his hand on the side of your chair. He didn’t know if you noticed this, or why he was doing it, but you kept the conversation. “Who’s rA9?”

The deviant was shaking like a lap dog. He was silent. “You...don’t know who rA9 is, do you?”

Still no answer. Connor realized that topic would go no further.

“When did you start feeling emotion?” Your eyes went round at the careless remark. _Way to be smooth, Connor. Really makes him feel warm and welcome, doesn’t it?_

The deviant talked through clenched teeth. “Before he used to beat me and I never said anything. One day I realized it wasn’t-”

“Fair!” he snapped, the word spilling out, along with years of concealed abuse. “I felt anger. _Hatred_. And then I knew what I had to do.”

“Why didn’t you run?” you asked. “Why did you hide in the attic like that?”

“I-I didn’t know what to do,” the deviant stuttered. “For the first time there was no one to tell me- to… I was scared. So I hid.”

Connor took a deep breath in and looked at the one way glass. “We’re done.”

On the other side, Hank exhaled and grinned. You didn’t think the conversation was done at all, only licking your lips as two police officers entered the room. One of them put cuff on the deviant, sending you a grateful look. You were too preoccupied with watching how the deviant was being handled to respond. Two seconds since the officers put him in cuffs, no negative response. Five seconds. Seven seconds… And then Gavin entered.

“Can’t wait to see _you_ dismanted,” he jeered. At the exact same time, the officer handling the deviant became a little too rough, and the android jerked away from the prying hands.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t- Get away!”

You jumped up as the other officer tried to hold the deviant down. He only made it so much worse. Before you could reach them, the deviant began to slam his head down against the table. Violently, not minding the surprised yells of the officers, he crashed his head into the metal until blue blood pooled there. You shoved one policeman away and Gavin fucking joined. He ignored what you were doing and grabbed the fabric of the deviants shirt. It ripped out of Reed’s hand as the android slammed his head repeatedly. You pushed Gavin away as well, ignoring the shouts from all around you.

“Stop! Stop hurting yourself!” he bashed his head so hard the table dented. “STOP!”

“That’s enough!” Connor ordered and you honestly wondered how he thought he was helping. “Stop that right now!”

The deviant registered your voice ( _yours!_ ), stood up- and grabbed an officer’s gun. You barely had time to blink as the gun fired once, twice. Two perfect shots. The deviant sank to his knees, Connor wasn’t so graceful. Your android partner fell back against a wall, the bullet hole in his head steadily gushing blue liquid.

“Connor!” You dropped to your knees, shaking his shoulders frantically. “Connor! Oh fuck- _Fuck!_ ”

“Don’t be overdramatic, Detective,” Natalia said, pulling you away from him by the arm. “His memories can always be transferred to a different prototype.”

“No! How can you be so-” you fought her and broke free. “He’s fucking gone! IS NO ONE GOING TO FUCKING DO SOMETHING?”

The bricks were splattered with ooze. Blue blood trailed down Connor’s forehead and down the side of his nose almost like a tear. You hated it. Hated it, hated it, hated everyone for being useless-

“Holy _shit,"_ Hank breathed.

“Hank,” you croaked, looking up at him. “Hank what do we do?”

He pulled you up to stand. You could feel his arms shaking, and not because of Connor’s death. Because for a moment, he thought his own life was in danger. No one else cared about the two dead androids that were painting the floor blue.

“We could have saved the deviant!” you yelled, rounding on both cops. “That was our only lead y-you- you _idiots!_ ”

Hank stuck his arm out to stop you. “They did their best kid-”

“No! They _knew_ it was under stress, they _knew_ it was delicate and they still kept touching it! You two ruined the investigation!”

“Oh calm down Bunny,” Gavin said. “Wouldn’t want the big green monster to come out.”

“Shut the hell up Reed,” you snarled. “I’m done with your bull for today. You ruined it just as much as they did-”

He stepped closer, smirking and genuinely pissed off. “How, hmm Bunny? How the hell did I-”

“‘Can’t wait to see _you_ dismantled’,” you barked in his deeper voice, poking him hard in the chest. “What were you _thinking?_ Oh, I know- ‘I’m Gavin Reed! I can do whatever shit I want with no consequences because I’m better than you.’ I hope you get fired for this you prick!”

“Miss Stark,” Natalia interjected, flipping a strand of sleek brown hair over her shoulder. “As I said before, Connor’s memory will be transferred to another unit. The deviant’s death is unfortunate, but we’ve already collected all the information we could from it.”

“No. Don’t pretend-” you fumed. “That anyone in this room would give two _shits_ if it were you on the floor instead of them.”

There was silence as you put your hand up to be scanned, and as the door slid open. You turned back to Gavin right before leaving.

“Call me Bunny one more time and I’ll cut your tongue off.”

 

* * *

 

An hour later you passed by the same room, phone in hand, ready to deliver the news to your best friend. The deviant’s body was gone, but Connor’s was still slumped against the wall. A yellow “wet floor” safety cone was placed near his feet, the only gravestone that version of RK800 would ever get. You were too upset to dial Abigail’s number.

* * *

 


	4. Two Androids, Sitting In The DPD, Less Than 5 Feet Apart 'Cuz They're Flirting, Apparently

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first clue to the investigation, the first fight between two partners, the first time (of many) you wished you could dismantle Natalia.

_He’s going to be right there. Don’t freak out._ Was what you were telling yourself all morning before coming to work. Connor would be there, talking to Hank like he never died, and you’d have to suck it up and deal with that. Natalia was right. He would come back. That didn’t mean you were any less nervous about it. “Bet you'll shit your pants when you see him,” Gavin had said. In fact, he was so sure you'd freeze that he made a bet. If you freeze he gets a thirty, if you don't, you get a thirty.

“Hello Detective,” Connor greeted as soon as you were within hearing range. “Do you know where Luitenant Anderson is?”

Gavin sipped his coffee a few desks away, smirking as your fingers tightened around the strap of your bag. It pained you to say this; Gavin Reed was right. He was just…there. Like nothing ever happened. You stood still, completely unresponsive. _I can't lose this bet, not to fucking Gavin of all people._ You pinched your arm painfully to “snap out of it”.

“I don't know where Hank, no,” you managed to get out, with a surprisingly steady tone. _Eat a steaming pile of horse shit Reed, I won the bet._ “He usually comes late. Wait a few.”

“A few minutes?” Connor asked hopefully.

Your laughed dryly at his naïve perception of Hank Anderson. “A few hours if we're lucky.”

Connor, having gotten an answer, turned away and tapped the phone laying on the desk next to him. _Your_ phone. His cold attitude didn’t shock you, unfortunately. With the new until his conscious was transferred to, some memories were lost, some manners and lessons he’d learned were erased. Doesn’t mean you weren’t bitter about his new attitude. You hopped on top of your desk, glaring at Gavin until he rolled his eyes and stalked off. The background of your computer was a picture of Iron Man’s arc reactor. Now that you thought about it, it was a tiny smidge embarrassing. You swung your legs over the side of the desk while Connor finished his voicemail to Hank.

“Good morning Miss Stark-”

You stopped swinging your legs and faced Natalia. “‘Sup?”

She halted, unsure of how to answer (which made you proud) and smiled politely before turning away. “Hello Co-”

His head jolted up suddenly. “-nnor. Captain Fowler has requested we meet him in his office as soon as Lieutenant Anderson arrives.”

“Good. That’s good,” right away, he began to feel lost. “Are there any specifics on the other deviants? I’ve run multiple searches on rA9 and nothing comes up.”

“Surprising,” Natalia said. “Well, if you can’t find any information, I doubt there is any to find as of now. There shouldn’t be anything the latest prototype can’t find.”

Connor’s lips quirked upward. “I believe your capabilities are equally compatible to mine.”

“Mmm,” Natalia hummed in response. “How are you since the interrogation? I hope the past few days haven’t been hard on your processors.”

You made a face, wrinkling your nose at them behind their backs. _What even is this? Are they- Oh no._ It struck as soon as Natalia moved closer to look Connor right in the face. They were...flirting? Maybe? A cold pang in your chest sunk down to your guts. He wasn’t tearing his eyes from her and though they were talking, it was more of a staring contest. You swore he wasn’t blinking. A groan came from around the corner, the most “recently hungover Hank Anderson” like groan you’d ever heard.

You hopped off the desk as quickly as possible to avoid the androids flirting. It was at times like this when you were torn between laughing and screaming out your frustration.

“Hank! Hi! Hi. How are you on this fine day when everything is fine today, on this fine day that is also good?”

Most people would mentally slap themselves for saying such a dumbass thing, but no. _You_ mentally grabbed a hammer, heated it over a fire and bashed it into your skull. _What fucking were the words that just came out of my mouth? Who knows?_ Hank narrowed his bloodshot eyes and said nothing, the universal “tread lightly” signal.

“Got it. Not in the mood. That’s cool.”

From the corner of your vision, Captain Fowler stepped out of his glass office, mouth open, ready to shout commands. You doubted Hank’s hangover would improve if this happened.

“Anderson! Sta-”

“Yes, yes,” you cut him off smoothly. “‘Anderson and Stark! My office! Bring the androids with you!” I know Captain, I got it. Les’go Hank.”

Captain Fowler grumbled something as you practically leaped up the small staircase to his office, eager to finally get some action. His office was the nicest thing in the entire building, cleanest, most accessorized with trinkets. Tipped his head in your direction as a small gesture of appreciation. And the moment Hank entered the office, the mood changed.

“Sit down Hank,” Fowler instructed.

“Why am I here?”

“Sit _down_ Hank,” Fowler repeated strictly. “Have a mint.”

Your brain, for some reason, tuned out the conversation to remind you of that one chapter from Harry Potter. Your mum introduced you to the old book before- the _thing_ happened. _“Have a biscuit, Potter.”_

_“Have- what?”_

_“Have a biscuit,” she repeated impatiently_ _indicating a tartan tin lying on top of one of the piles of papers on her desk. “And sit down.”_

“Why me?” Hank exclaimed, butting into your peaceful memories. “Why do I gotta be the one to deal with this shit? I am the _least_ qualified cop to deal with this case.”

“That’s not true-” you argued.

“I know jack shit about androids!” Hank loudly spoke over you. “So why me?”

Fowler wheeled back in his leather chair and spread his arms. “Everybody’s overloaded. I think you’re perfectly qualified for this type of investigation-”

“Bullshit!” Hank interjected, standing up to full height. “The truth is nobody wants to investigate these fuckin’ android and you left me holdin’ the bag!”

Fowler was having none of his dramatics. “Cyberlife sent over these androids to help with the investigation. They are state of the art prototypes, Connor will act as your partner.”

“No fuckin’ way!” Hank barked. “I don’t need a partner and certainly not this plastic prick!”

“Steady, Lieutenant,” you reminded him.

“Hank you are seriously starting to piss me off!” Fowler exploded. “You are a police lieutenant, you are supposed to do what I say and shut you goddamn mouth!”

“Y’know what my god damn mouth has to say to you-”

“Hank!” you scolded.

Fowler put up a hand to silence him. “Okay, okay. I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, so I don’t have to add any more pages to your disciplinary folder, ‘cause it already looks like a fuckin’ novel! You have the android and you have Stark, and right now you’re inconveniencing everyone with your bullshit.”

“I know jack shit about androids!”

“Which is why Stark has been assigned to the case as well. She’s got years of experience designing the things, so you better count your god damn prayers she decides to stay and help. This conversation is over!”

Hank leaned down on Fowler’s desk. “Jeffrey, Jesus Christ! You know how much I hate these fuckin’ things. Why’re you doin’ this to me?”

Up until now you hadn’t felt Connor or Natalia’s presence, but she shifted from one foot to another, her neat pencil skirt creasing slightly. It was a change in footing to distract from the tense air of the room. Connor’s gaze flicked from Fowler to Hank, an almost unnoticeable frown on his face. You hated this. It was the _opposite_ of what you wanted. Hank was throwing around insults in front of your partner, who only became more robotic and restrained with each blow. You just wanted them to fucking get along. For Connor to open up a bit. Clearly, that wasn’t happening.

“I’ve had just about enough of your bitching,” Fowler said. “Either you do your job or you hand in your badge. Now if you’ll excuse me- I’ve got work to do.”

Hank slammed the glass door shut behind him, leaving you, Connor and Natalia, and the ever blooming unease. Connor chimed in before anything got too awkward, only making things worse. “I’m very pleased to have joined the team. I can assure you I’ll do my very best-”

“Close the door on your way out,” Captain Fowler interrupted, not looking up from his computer. He sipped coffee from his mug as if it weren’t a rude thing to do. Several emotions flashed across Connor’s face, but you could only detect one; despondency. He held the door open for Natalie and they both left.

“Captain,” you said quietly. “You’ve got to be a tad more...sensitive.”

“‘Bout what?” Fowler asked defensively.

“Don’t raise your voice, Captain, I’m not being hostile,” you put your hands in the air as small gesture of surrender. “But you can get a _little_ harsh.”

Captain Fowler set down his coffee. “On who? _Anderson?_ ”

“Yeah, and also, um…”

His face twisted between confusion and surprise. “What? The _android?_ Are you serious (Name)?”

You looked away, getting a quick glance at Connor, who was talking with Hank at the lieutenant’s desk. Even from this distance, it didn’t seem civil. “I am, yeah.”

“You,” Fowler pointed at your chest. “Are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”

“S-sorry?”

“Go, Stark. You’re lucky I like you.”

You gave a small smile at that. “Thanks Captain. Consider my offer?”

“Just go.”

Unlike Hank (who slammed it shut with the force of a thousand armies) or Connor (who let it swing closed by itself), you carefully inched the door closed, keeping your hand on it until the softest of glass _‘clinks! '_  meant it was shut. Fowler hated when his glass office was abused. It was the little things that kept you on his good side. Your phone chimed in your back pocket and you immediately pulled it out.

 

**Abby:**

**im leaving this weekend. board of directors want us to introduce a new model in Britain.**

 

You sighed. Her leaving meant you had the apartment to yourself, which meant you could do whatever you wanted for a few days, which meant you were lonely. She followed up with another text right away.

 

**Abby:**

**im there for a week. sammy’s food is on the top shelf. dont die while im gone.**

 

You unlocked the phone as quick as possible.

 

**Ok.**

**_Sent_ **

 

**Abby:**

**don’t get sad. you’re not allowed to be sad without me.**

 

You could hear Hank’s suppressed anger as you walked closer to his desk. At times like this, you really missed working for Cyberlife with Abigail.

 

**Ur pms-ing u loser. I’ll be fine. Bring some cake on the trip.**

**_Sent_ **

 

**Abby:**

**smh u won’t get that android to fuk u if you’re so rude**

 

**I don’t want to fuck him!!!**

**_Sent_ **

**Abby:**

**you’re so bad at lying it’s funny**

 

Connor entered your circle of vision, talking to Hank, who was very obviously irritated by the chatty android. Although Hank would use some healthy interaction with an android, and Connor would definitely use some practice talking to humans.

“A lot of people don’t like having androids around,” Connor was saying. “I was wondering- Is there any reason in particular you despise me?”

Your eyes turned to saucers and you wheeled around, trying to get away from the conversation as fast as possible. _Nope. Nope. No, no, no, no, no, nonononono-_

“Hey! Come back here,” Hank yelled maliciously, motioning for you to come back. “C’mere Stark. Explain to it why I hate androids.”

“I d-don’t think you _hate_ androids,” you said, carefully avoiding getting too close to either of them. You opted to lean against the new detective’s desk. “He’s just being overdramatic, Connor. Hank’s a big softie, he’d never hurt you.”

“Wrong. Also, go to hell,” Hank growled. “You’ve got no idea why I hate those piles of junk.”

“So there is a reason?” Connor probed.

Hank focused back on his computer. “Yeah. There is one.”

Connor waited patiently for an answer..and he never got one. You felt bad for him. For Connor. By the way his face fell, it seemed he really wanted to know Hank’s reasons for being so hateful. Damn, if it were awkward in Fowler’s office, it was literal hell now. Connor’s inquisitive brown eyes met yours, and you shrugged apologetically. Connor wanted to reach for his coin. He was not...content...with Hank’s unwillingness to be cooperative.

“If you have any files on deviants, I’d like to take a look at them.”

“Terminal’s on your desk,” Hank grunted. “Knock yourself out.”

You faced away from them solely to puff out your cheeks in exasperation and blow a strand of hair away from your eyes. It was like working with angsty teenagers; the absolute worst.

“It all started in Detroit...and spread across the country,” Connor read through the information on his computer. “An AX400 has reportedly assaulted a man last night. That could be a good starting point for our investigation.”

“Sure,” you said cheerfully, glancing at Hank for a reaction. “That works. When do we start?”

Connor looked at you and then swiftly looked away. Immediately, your anxiety took over. _Fuck you dude! Rude piece of shi- It’s fine. I’m fine. Probably something I did to upset him._

“Lieutenant?” Connor asked hopefully. Hank only grunted in return.

Before you could advise him otherwise, Connor stood up and walked over to Hank’s desk, towering over the older man. Hank swiveled his chair to face away, grumbling to himself. “Ugh, Jesus…”

“I know you didn’t ask for this investigation, Lieutenant,” Connor reasoned (he wasn’t the best at it, you could tell). You were considering shouting for him to be quiet. _Dammit Connor, not a good idea, very bad idea, actually. BAD! IDEA!_ “But I’m sure you’re a professional-”

Hank was tapping an angry rhythm into his knee. “Why don’t you go fuck yourself, yeah?”

Connor put his hand on Hank’s back in what he thought was a calming gesture. “I suggest you sort out you personal issues,” the lieutenant's teeth were clenched. “And let me work with someone more competent.” By the time you exhaled a terrified gasp, Hank had wrenched the android by his collar and slammed him against the wall.

“Put him _down!_ ” you demanded. Connor didn’t fight Hank at all; he stared straight ahead blankly, his feet never leaving the ground.

“Listen asshole,” Hank fumed. “If it were up to me I’d throw the lot of you in the dumpster and set it on fire. So stop pissing me off!”

You wrenched Hank away. “(Y/N), what the fuck-”

“Cop’s here,” you said coldly, shoving him in the scared new recruit’s direction. “Stop picking fights and talk to him. I’ll be there in a second.”

“What’s _your_ problem?”

“I said go, Hank,” you repeated. He wiped his hands on his jeans and stomped away, leaving Connor in the exact same place next to the wall. You rounded on him like an angry dog.

“Why the hell would you say that?” you scolded, poking him hand in his stupid, perfectly ironed jacket.

He adjusted his now crooked black tie. “I told the truth, Detective. Lieutenant Anderson was being very lazy about this case, and I simply suggested that I get a new partner.”

“But you can’t- Can’t just-” you let out an irritated groan. “Connor, I’m sure an android would be fine with something like that, but humans are...emotional.”

“Hank was being overly emotional, I think.”

“That doesn’t mean you talk to him like that!” you said, running a hand through your hair. “Jesus, I know Hank gets emotional, I _know-_ But reminding him about his recent attitude problem only provokes him more!”

Connor pressed his lips together. They looked soft, and you decided to remember this for a time when you weren’t berating him. Or maybe you should burn that thought from your memory; it was useless and distracting. “I’ll save this information to my R.A.M. for future reference. Detective-”

“Call me (Y/N),” you snapped.

Connor mouthed your name before he said it out loud, as if he wanted to get it perfect the first time. “Okay…(Y/N).”

Damned if it didn’t sound a million times prettier when he said it. You saw Hank listening intently to the cop, meaning the next case would be good. A bloody, gruesome, amazing type of good. “Don’t mention this to Hank, okay? Every human has, uh, boundaries. A breaking point, kinda. You’d be smart to figure out people’s breaking points, especially people like Hank.”

Connor nodded curtly. “Noted. Thank you (Y/N).”

“Welcome. And um, your tie’s still crooked,” you added, irked by that minor detail. “Here, let me-” Tugging gently, you tightened the knot and straightened it. All the while, Connor watched you, head tilted to the side, thinking. _Processing,_ he corrected himself. _I’m processing._

“There,” you stepped back, your cheeks hotter than they were a minute ago. Up close, he had freckles that you hadn’t noticed before and a slight floof to his left eyebrow. “Sorry, it was bothering me a lot.”

You grabbed your bag off his desk and speed walked away before he could say anything more about it. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *singing at the top of my lungs* tWO BROS CHILLIN' IN A HOT TUB 5 FEET APART CUZ THEY'RE NOT GAY


	5. The Chicken Feed and Pineapple Soda

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meeting up at the Chicken Feed provides no new information for the investigation and you're soaked, but at least you get to know Connor a little more. Also, jumping puddles.

“My fucking underwear’s soaked,” you complained, shifting from one foot to the other in an attempt to get your wet skinny jeans in comfortable position. “If he isn’t here in two minutes- kill me.”

Alarm passed briefly over Connor, so briefly it almost didn’t happen. “Killing you would be harmful towards my assignment. You are the only thing that keeps Hank from becoming violent.”

“Tch, then I’m not doing my job well ‘nough. Remember two days ago?” the lieutenant’s old car pulled up, radiating heat from the inside. Your face contorted in a jealous grimace.

“Of course I remember,” Connor said. “It was stored in my memory, along with your warning.”

“Wasn’t a warning,” you knew Hank had turned off his shitty music, since the city block wasn’t vibrating anymore. “It was advise.”

“The ‘ell are you soaked through for?” Hank gibed as he got out. “Couldn’t drive your fancy ass car here?”

“It’s in repair,” you muttered, wiping rain drops off your eyelashes and backing closer to the Chicken Feed. One of Detroit’s many downfalls; the fucking weather. During fall, winter and some of spring it was either pouring down or freezing over, or both. Right now it was both.

“Stay by the car,” Hank ordered Connor.

You bristled at that. “It’s _raining_ -”

“I do not have any components that would be damaged by water,” Connor explained. “It’s okay (Y/N).”

You hopped in front of him before he could walk away, positively bouncing in your drenched sneakers. Cold drops cascaded down your black windbreaker, making it stick to your skin. “Connor, you don’t have to do what Hank says. You’re a state of the art machine, not a lap dog.”

“I am only following your advice,” he said quickly. Humans could get sick from this kind of exposure to cold rain. He didn’t want you to get sick, that would be an inconvenience to you...and an unnecessary hiccup in the investigation, of course. “To appease Hank by doing what he tells me to.”

You pulled him, or he allowed you to pull him, back under the Chicken Feed’s tarp. “Yeah, but sometimes you gotta say “fuck it” and disobey, right?”

“That’s not how my programming works-”

Hank turned around to see Connor beside him again, and the old man wasn’t happy. “What’s your problem? Don’t you ever do as you’re told? Look, you don’t have to follow me around like a poodle!”

“Luitenant I-”

“He can _stand_ next to us Hank!” you objected. “There’s no point in ruining his biocomponents by getting them wet.”

Yes, you knew that was false and yes, Connor looked conflicted about correcting you, but Hank didn’t know that. He merely puffed out a breath. You elbowed Connor in the side and pointed at the lieutenant, mouthing “talk to him”. He got the gist.

“I’m sorry for my behavior back at the police station,” Connor said in earnest. “I didn’t mean to be unpleasant.”

“Oh wow,” Hank chuckled. “You’ve even got a brown nosing apology program! Guys at Cyberlife really think of everything, don’t they? What, did Stark put you up to this?”

“Take the apology Hank,” you pleaded tiredly. “Please?”

There was a long pause, in which you considered walking away to sit under the little umbrella near the food truck. Hank eventually sighed, and that was the most agreement you would get out of him. It was enough for now.

“Here ya go,” the truck owner said, sliding the burger and drink over the slick-with-grease counter.

“Ah. Thanks Gary, I’m starving."

“Don’t leave that thing here!” Gary the Food Truck Owner called after Hank, signalling for you and Connor to leave. He seemed confused at why you scowled at him, but you’d already whipped around and sauntered away. Hank scoffed: “Hah! Not a chance. That thing follows me everywhere.”

You ducked under the umbrella, resting your arms on the tall table. A shiver ran through your nerves at contact with the cold steel. “When’re we getting the next lead, Hank? ‘Cause I’ve got nothing. I’ve looked through the alleys in Great Falls, talked to all the hobos in West- I met the fucking Boar Company in Corktown. _Terrible_ people, but they’ve been on edge since Tom Bilotti so I got some dirt on them if the DPD ever-”

Hank choked on his pineapple soda and hit his chest to clear it, coughing madly. You pounded him on the back to help, catching Connor’s amused eyebrow quirk.

“You talked to the Boars?” Hank yelled. “Are you _insane?_ Kid you’re new to the DPD, leave that shit to the professionals.”

“The Boar Company,” Connor recited, seemingly reading information to himself (his previously amused expression melted off faster with each word). “Known for counterfeiting, kidnapping, prostitution, drug trafficking and trading cocaine. Miss Stark, why would you have contact with them?”

“I knew Tom in elementary school,” you said defensively. “He was Nick’s kid, so I sometimes played at their house. My mum and dad didn’t know ‘bout Nick’s business back then. Nick’s wife and I talked with some soldiers over tea, then I left. No biggie.”

“It would be better if you would leave that family alone,” Connor said, brushing away stray strands of hair that fell over his forehead. Another thing about him that bothered you; his eternally perfect hair.

“They’re a good source of information!”

“Promise me you won’t do that again,” Connor insisted, locking eyes with you.

“You’re not my-”

“Please, Miss Stark,” he said quietly. “Do you promise?”

The dim street lamp lights hit his face at such an an angle that his freckles were highlighted like splatters of luminescent gold, invisible ink under a blacklight. You could see yellow circles from street lamps reflected in his doe eyes. He was so fucking beautiful even in the evening, after a long day at work. _Androids never get tired, how fortunate for them._ It took a good moment for you to realize you hadn't answered him.

“I, uh…” you stuttered (like the smartest person ever). “I p-promise. Cross my heart or hope to die or whatever, okay _mom?_ Jesus...”

“Miss Stark, I am certain that you aren't my daughter.”

Blinking slowly, you stared at him with the blankest expression he'd ever seen in a human. Hank bit down on his drink’s straw, one misunderstanding away from losing his shit. The need to laugh combined with how absolutely done you were with this android made your voice waver. “Connor?”

“Yes Miss Stark?”

“Look up “okay mom” and tell me what comes up.”

His LED flashed yellow and his eyes twitched as he followed the directions. You released a small laugh at how taken back he looked. “...Oh.”

Hank burst, cackling and slapping the table. Luckily his deafening laughter hid your giggles, poorly concealed by biting down on your finger. And was it your imagination, or was the slightest tint of blue flowing into Connor’s cheeks? _The household androids are equipped to blush red so they wouldn't scare children. I guess the RK800 doesn't have that. Doesn't mean he doesn't look fucking se-_

“Got everything but a sense of humor, huh?” Hank managed through his laughter.

_-eautiful android sonova bitch with perfect fucking bone structure..._

Connor’s patches of blue darkened.

_Probably has a great a- Whoa, okay. Stop._

You reared your own imagination in before any permanent damage could be done. Hank’s burger, although it had enough fat to kill someone, smelled like heaven. You were now painfully aware of how heavy your tongue felt in your mouth, and of the rumbling in your stomach.

“So did Fowler release any new leads or what?” you asked, needing a distraction from your sopping clothes.

“No fuckin’ way he did,” Hank said, throwing his burger wrapper somewhere behind him. “He’s still pissed about the deviant. Says Cyberlife’s on his ass now, they don’t want to keep sending new Connors. I told Fowler they can stop. We don’t need ‘em.”

“So another week until we can get moving,” you concluded flatly. “Wonderful. I love sitting around and doing nothing. Really helps my title of private investigator.”

“Enjoy the time off, kid,” Hank said. “Who knows when we’ll see the next dead guy...” your eyes lit up at his words, making the lieutenant's lip curl up in disgust. “The hell’s that look on your face about? Jesus, d’you get off on dead people now?”

“ _Hank!_ I d-don’t-” you sputtered indignantly. “I don’t “g-get off” on dead people! Why the fuck would you say that? Does everyone at the DPD think that? Connor, do I get happy around dead people?”

“Well…” he began, and all you could think was ‘oh no’. Connor most likely saw the way your excitement grew at Carlos Ortiz’ house. “Your heartbeat did increase, but that may have been from fear. You did seem to be more active after seeing Carlos Ortiz.”

Hank shook his head. “Fuckin’ loony…”

“It was the andredeline,” you assured them. “I swear, I _swear_ on my l-”

“Your engraved bunny knife?” Hank suggested innocently.

That comment made your cheeks heat up. “Shut _up_ Hank. I swear on my life, I’m not a sadist. Seriously! I like the adrenaline rush, is all.”

“I do not think Miss Stark is a sadist,” Connor added after looking you up and down. “She is far too tame for something like that.”

“Hey!” you crossed your arms and sent him a pouty glare. “I’m not tame! I can be intimidating!”

“You are very intimidating,” Connor agreed, but there was snide sarcasm in his voice. You punched him in the arm, knowing he’d never feel it and the action wouldn’t do you any good. As you drew back your hand, it throbbed a bit. To make you feel better, Connor mumbled an faint “ _ow_ ”. The tiny smile that graced your features caused an irregular rhythm in his thirium pump.

“Is there anything you want to know about me?” Connor asked expectantly.

“Hell no,” Hank barked. You silently disagreed; listening to Connor talk was a sure way to get lost in thought. To spend hours, just allowing him to ramble about his observations on birds and human behavior, would be the _best_ waste of your time. Even if he spoke about Natalia, you’d still listen like a kindergartner during storytime. How depressing. “Actually, yeah,” Hank reluctantly said. “Um, why’d they make you look so goofy and give you that weird voice?”

It was your turn to choke, except you choked on air like a complete loser instead of a soft drink. You managed to play it off as a cough in the back of your throat. _Is Connor’s voice goody? Am I the only one who likes it? Am I crazy? Yes to all?_ Note to self: ask Abby if she thinks Connor is “goofy”, include question about his voice.

“Cyberlife androids are designed to work harmoniously with humans,” he explained. “Both my appearance and voice were specifically designed to facilitate my integration.” Cyberlife didn’t really succeed in “facilitating his integration”, but damn did you want to shake hands with whoever drew out the diagram for his face. _No that’s creepy. Don’t think like that._

“Well they fucked up,” Hank said candidly. You leaned your elbow on the high table and rested your cheek on your fist, squishing it. Of course he’d say that.

“Les’ change the topic please,” you said, a little muffled from speaking against your fist. “I wanna stay on track.”

This perked Connor up. “Would you like to hear of what we know about deviants?”

“You read my mind,” Hank said. “Proceed.”

“We believe a mutation occurs in the software of some androids, which can lead to them emulating a human emotion,” and there he went, rambling about something or other. You almost didn’t feel the cold breeze against your wet skin.

“In English,” Hank requested.

“They don’t feel emotions, they just get overwhelmed by irrational instructions,” you unfolded your fist and moved to a more comfortable position, with your chin now rested in your palm. Your fingertips tapped a pattern into your jaw. “Which can lead to unpredictable behavior.”

“Emotion’s always screw everything up,” Hank said earnestly. “Maybe androids aren’t as different from us as we thought.”

“I don’t agree,” you piped up.

Connor’s doe eyes darted to you. “With what?”

“That deviants can’t feel real emotion. That it’s all just a bunch of instructions they can’t process well enough. And I really don’t think these emotions are unpredictable behavior. ‘Cause, like, “unpredictable behavior” makes it sounds bad. Dangerous. What about good feelings?”

“Very well,” Connor said slowly. “Suppose a deviant does feel these good emotions. What do you think they would be? Because in the end, it wouldn’t play out well. All emotions have to turn unpleasant at some point.”

“But some are both good and bad! Like, uh...y’know…” you frantically tried to think of an emotion. _Don’t say love, don’t say love, don’t say love. For Christs sake, do not say love._ “Love.” _DAMMIT!_

“Androids aren’t able to feel love,” Connor said, peering at you. “Even models designed to simulate a domestic relationship will never feel a genuine attraction to their partner.”

“And isn’t that just sad?”

Connor mouth twitched down. “I suppose I wouldn’t know.”

“Sounds like you’ve dealt with tons of deviants,” you said, stealing Hank’s soda from him. The lieutenant sent you a tired scowl but did not complain (you wiped the straw on your sleeve before sipping from it). The soda was already going flat and the pineapple syrup flavor was too sweet. You loved it.

“A few months back,” so Connor _did_ have experience with deviants. Huh. “A deviant was threatening to jump off the roof with a little girl. I managed to save her.”

You stirred the soda with its straw. “The Phillips?”

Connor nodded. You looked down at your stolen drink. Caroline Philips, Emma’s mother, worked with your parents at some point. You’d babysat for them once or twice, before they bought Daniel.

“So I guess you’ve done all your homework, right?” Hank asked. “Know everything there is to know about me?”

“I know you graduated top of your class,” Connor said. “You made a name for yourself in several cases and became the youngest lieutenant in Detroit.” _Good, Connor. Sucking up to him is your best option so far._ “I also know you’ve received several disciplinary warning in recent years and...you spend a lot of time in bars.” You had to restrain yourself from letting out a low whistle.

Hank seemed to take all this well. He shrugged. “So what’s your conclusion?”

 _Tread lightly, Connor._ “I think working with an officer with...personal issues is an added challenge, but adapting to human unpredictability is one of my features,” Connor finished proudly.

And then he winked.

...And your elbow slid off the table. You yelped, stumbling to regain balance. Connor grabbed your arm before you fell sideways. “Miss Stark, are you alright?”

You yanked away from his grip. “Y-yup. Stupid table’s wet and slippery. S-sorry.”

“It _is_ getting very dark,” Connor noted. “And your clothes are soaked throughout. Maybe it’s time to leave.”

“Fuckin’ finally, I’m freezing my shit here,” Hank said. “‘Aight, see you tomorrow.”

“Bye?” you half said, half asked, unsure of what to say. “Connor, d’you wanna walk to the station by yourself or what?”

“I...am not allowed to stay at the DPD at night,” Connor admitted, straightening his tie and damp jacket. “The janitor said it was unsettling to see me powered down, and Detectives Reed and Nickelson complained as well.”

“ _What?_ ” you exclaimed. “That bullshit! Gavin and Luke seriously kicked you out?”

Connor was uneasy with answering. “Technically Captain Fowler was forced to kick me out, but yes.”

“That’s- the _biggest_ pile of horse shit I’ve ever head!” you fumed. “Where do you sleep? If you saw a park bench I will personally skin Gavin alive-”

“Miss Stark, calm down,” he soothed, putting a “calming” hand on your shoulder blade. The little shocks of electricity when he did so (all of it in your head) made it hard to focus. “I powered down at the android holding station near the DPD.”

“Blasphemy!” you cried indignantly. Those disgraceful android “parking spaces”, were appalling. Seeing them standing, unmoving, in a straight line for hours or sometimes days- It was creepy and ironically inhumane.

“Miss Stark, I don’t think you’re using that word correctly-”

You paced back and forth. “Hush Connor, I’m in my thinking pose.”

“It’s really not so bad-”

“Thinking pose!” you asserted. “Thinking! Pose! I can solve this, okay? I’m smart!”

“I never said you weren’t-”

“Hank!” you yelled suddenly. “Hank might let you stay!” But the second you stepped from under the umbrella, Hank’s car sped away, splashing puddle water on the toes of your sneakers. You cursed at him, pushing rain soaked hair out of your face. Connor appeared right behind you.

“(Y/N), you should put your hood up.”

You let out an exaggerated groan, kicking at the ground. “ _Great._ And I gotta walk home in this weather too. Y’know what Connor? You’re coming with me.”

His LED flickered. “With you? To your apartment?”

“Yeah,” you grouched. “My friend’s not home, so I’ve got an extra room. She super chill, she won’t mind.”

He had to take big steps to catch up to your smaller, angrier ones. Both of you walked as close to the metro as possible, so no more cars could splash you with muddy water. Although he was slightly bothered by his soaked uniform, Connor found he thoroughly enjoyed the way your bows pinched together, and the way your lips moved as you muttered rapidly to yourself. Dinky, run down shops lined this part of town, but they provided some light aside from the blinking street lamps.

“Are you sure your friend would approve of me staying in the apartment?” Connor inquired. _Hopefully,_ you thought.

“We’ve been best friends since fifth grade,” you assured him, zipping up your thin windbreaker. “She can’t exactly divorce our friendship now. I know all her dark secrets.”

Connor was sure that you had been in a terrible mood minutes prior, yet he watched you jump from puddle to puddle the rest of the way, laughing like a kid. He couldn’t look away.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter should be pure, tooth rotting fluff. Hopefully.


	6. Stark, Tony Stark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor looks a lot better in sweatpants than he does with a cat on his leg, and explaining why your last name was changed is still uncomfortable.

You had to wring water from your windbreaker before entering the apartment. That’s how dripping wet your clothes were. It made small pools on the white marble floor, but you knew the staff would clean that up before sundown. You let out a huge sigh of relief as you entered your home, breathing in the scent from Abigail’s plethora of scented candles. The entire place smelled like lavender fields and old books from the floor to ceiling wall filled with them (you had to use one of those wheeled ladders to reach half the shelves).

“Take your jacket off,” you told Connor. “There’s a coat rack over there. Careful, or you’ll wake up-”

A grey ball of fur streaked past you and latched onto Connor’s leg.

“-Sammy!” you scolded, attempting to unhook the cat’s claws from Connor’s pants. He didn’t seem bothered at the least, staring down at the cat with curiosity. After some petting and promise of treats, Sammy let himself into your arms.

“Whoops- gotcha. Sorry ‘bout that,” you said, scratching behind the his ear. Sammy’s skittish hazel eyes followed Connor, pupils turned to slits. “He doesn’t like strangers much, ‘cept when both Abby and I are in the room. He’s Abigail’s cat.”

Connor finished hanging his coat up and inspected the small tears in his woolen uniform pants. “Is it okay for me to be around him?”

“If I’m with you, yeah,” you let Sammy down and he scampered up the winding metal staircase up to the loft. You threw your windbreaker on the white couch and practically threw your shoes off. “Ahh, that feels great.”

Connor spun around a few times as if he were a dog chasing its tail. “(Y/N), where should I dry my clothes?”

“Uh…bathroom? It’s down the hall.”

You knew he’d scanned the place and to be fair, he likely knew it better than you did now, but you politely lead him down the hallway. “My room’s right across from the bathroom, so if you need anything, call.”

Your bra flew off the moment he closed the bathroom door. Fuzzy socks, pajama pants and a large Marauder’s Map t-shirt replaced the wet shirt and jeans. Your bed looked incredibly inviting and you would have crashed for the night if Connor hadn’t called for you, sounding like a lost child.

You pressed your ear against the bathroom door. “What’s wrong?”

“I...am not able to dry my uniform,” Connor said guiltily. “Should I stay in here until it dries?”

“I could get you some clothes,” you suggested. _What- is he like, sitting on the radiator?_ “D’you mind not wearing the uniform?”

There was a pause. “...okay.”

Connor sat on the edge of your bathtub (in a pair of boxers, but you wouldn’t know that). He fished his dollar coin from the pocket of his folded pants and twirled it between his fingers. No calls from Amanda, no briefings from Cyberlife or the DPD. Nothing to do but play with the coin. His audio processors focused on the patter of your footsteps against the bamboo flooring, and the opening and closing of drawers. He fumbled with and nearly dropped his coin when you spoke again.

“I’m going to open this a little,” the door cracked open and your nervous hand shot through, holding a bundle of stuff. “Take those. I don’t know your size, but that should do.”

The second Connor took his new clothes, your hand darted out of the crack and the door slammed shut. His LED blinked yellow as he looked at what you gave him. Grey sweatpants and an XXL t-shirt of a band called the Arctic Monkeys. The polar opposite of his uniform. Still, he slipped them on and hung his wet uniform on the radiator.

You stroked Sammy’s fur with one hand and stirred mac and cheese with the other. The cat purred, loving the stove’s gentle heat and your petting. You looked up from the food to see Connor standing in the living room area, quite uncomfortable.

“Do you want a different shirt?” you asked with a surprisingly straight face, seeing as the huge shirt fell to expose a good bit of his right collarbone. He was drowning in it. How...adorable. Connor shook his head and adjusted the shirt; “It is temporary, after all.”

You smiled down at the pot of mac and cheese, turning the stove off and tipping the pasta into a bowl. Connor scooted over for you when you plopped down next to him on the couch. Sammy didn’t follow you this time.

He had the coin in his palm just in case. “(Y/N), why did you change your last name to Stark?”

You swallowed the food in your mouth and pointed your fork at him. “Been aching to ask me that for a while, huh?”

“Since we first met.”

You laughed half heartedly. Talking about your old last name was something you were open to do, as of very recently. Didn’t mean it was any less awkward. Not that Connor could ever sense the awkwardness. “It’s a long story, but I guess I can shorten it to the important stuff.”

“If it’s a sensitive subject-”

“No, it’s fine,” you looked at the food in your lap instead of at him. “I’ve always had, uh... _differences_ , between me and my family. Especially my mom. You know the Extos A.I.?”

“Of course. They planned to join a partnership with Cyberlife. My model was supposed to represent both companies before Extos left the deal.”

“Ha, ha...yeah…” you suddenly felt a lot less hungry. “My family’s owned Extos since Harry Murray passed.” Connor’s eyebrows raised, not in disbelief, but intrigue. “I’ve never gotten along with my mom, so I’m not really close to her. We’re not a very loving family anyway- I guess it doesn’t matter in the end. So when I was still working for Cyberlife, my mom came and told me their company would join ours, and she’d be in charge of me again and all that. Major changes would have been made at Cyberlife. I heard my parents talking ‘bout their plans, it wasn’t... _good_.”

Connor frowned in his own special way, somehow barely showing any emotion. “What changes?”

“I can’t tell you,” it was whispered, painfully, with shame. Your parents were not to be defied, not to be messed with, and the their ideas were heinous. “You might report to Cyberlife, and then that’ll get out to the press, and then my parents’ll have to fight to get the reputation back… I mean I hate them, but I can’t- I can’t _do_ that.”

“You don’t trust me?” Connor asked quietly. He heard the smallest amount of dejection in his voice and cleared his throat to rid of it. You pressed your lips into a thin line.

“No,” you answered. “I don’t.”

Connor moved back and settled more comfortably against the furry throw pillows. “I suppose that’s for the best.”

You gave him a blank stare in return. _He...isn’t going to press me for the information? But-but that’s something Cyberlife would love to get their hands on._ Connor waited, with hands neatly folded on his lap, for you to finish the story. _I guess he isn’t going to ask. Huh…_

“I h-had a huge fight with my mom about how the company should be run. She wouldn’t look at me after that, so quit my job at Cyberlife and my parents decided not to join the deal.”

“Your name?”

“Oh! It, um- it was like my last act of rebellion,” you explained. “I didn’t want to be known as my mom’s daughter, so I kind of...changed it. Stark was the first thing that came to mind.”

“After Tony Stark,” he clarified.

“Yeah,” you said. “It’s a bit dumb, now that I think of it. But I like Marvel! A-and no one remembers it very well, and in Game of Thrones the Starks were my favorite family. So now I’m a Stark too. Tad-ah!”

“That’s an entertaining story,” Connor said, smiling at the cute jazz hands you made to finish the tale.

Smiling.

Smiling prettily.

Oh _god._

“Yup! That’s all, that’s it!” you stuttered, glancing away from him. He looked so nice when he smiled like that. His eyes got the tiniest crinkles under them, and smile lines appeared so naturally you wondered if Cyberlife made him _specifically_ to end you. Shoveling the remaining mac and cheese into your mouth, you swallowed thickly and hurried to put the dirty bowl in your sink.

“It’s really late, maybe we should settle down for tonight,” you rushed out, milling around the living room. “Couch doesn’t pull out but I can give you a pillow and blanket. Your model sleeps? Unless they’ve changed something since I left- Do need to use the sleep?”  _Do you need to use the sleep!?  How tired am I?_   You pinched the bridge of your nose, in awe of your own stupidity. "I think _I_ need to use the sleep."

“I go into a sleep-like state,” Connor said, no longer widely smiling but the aura of cheerfulness remained. “RK800’s don’t have dreams, but we do report to Amanda if she calls for us.”

You stopped right in front of him, pillows and a blanket piled so high in your arms your face was partially hidden. “A..manda?”

“Yes, she is a handler of sorts. I get my mission assignments from her.”

You blanked. “Amanda Stern?”

“Yes.”

Dropping the pillows next to him, you began to spread out the blanket with numb fingers. Amanda Stern…was familiar. You'd research it later. With the push of a button on your phone, the blinds slid up robotically, revealing your favorite part of the apartment; the window-wall. You sighed at the view of the nicest skyscrapers in Detroit, with its computerized billboards and street lamps. Cars and commuters rushed by below, most of them heading to the late night performances at the opera. Some nights you could hear the orchestra play at the concert hall as you fell asleep.

“It must have been very hard to buy a place like this,” Connor noted. You had to disagree; with the money from mommy’s company, the impressive (former) job at Cyberlife, and your M.D., the fact that you were only in your mid 20’s was forgotten. No one could look at you and say “yeah, she's fresh out of college”. The diploma on your wall and your blood stained surgeon's gloves proved that wrong. 

“I'm lucky,” you said simply, dimming the lights to the home. “I wouldn't be here if mom and dad didn't own the company.”

Connor’s gaze was on the outside view, the city lights reflecting purple and yellow on his face. You knew that look, of someone who was at peace.

You only wished the window-wall could bring you even the slightest sense of peace, as it did for him.

Connor pulled the shirt over his shoulder yet again (you wished he'd let it be), and pulled the blanket over his legs. The image of him in normal clothes was so messily human you were close to forgetting about the LED at his temple. About his symmetrical features and pearly white teeth and neatly combed, forever soft hair. About his perfect _everything_.

“G’night Connor,” you said quietly, sluggishly walking over the single step to get to your bedroom down the hall. The kitchen counter still had dirty dishes on it. You'd deal with that tomorrow. There we no skip in your walk, no song being hummed under your breath. Connor noticed. Of course he did, it was one of his prides, attentiveness. **New [Off Task] Objective: _cheer her up.**

“I hope you are assigned all the minor cases leading in this investigation," he smoothed the blanket on his lap and smiled sweetly. "Your presence is very calming to Hank and I’s relations.”

“He slammed you against a _wall_ ,” you deadpanned. “Pretty sure that's not good for the group’s moral support.”

“Well I'm glad you were assigned to the investigation,” he said matter-of-factly. “I enjoy being your partner. You couldn't help the way your lips tugged up. “Thanks Connor.”

“Goodnight (Y/N),” he said softly, watching you skip down the hall to your room. He felt a warm trickle in his ribcage and immediately ran a diagnosis of the area; **Biocomponent #8451|Thirium Pump Fully Functional_**

Despite his initial confusion, Connor ignored the obvious malfunction. The cool fabric of the pillow felt pleasant, even with his nerve receptors dulled. It smelled faintly of woman's perfume. He checked that the front door was locked, fluffed his pillow and scanned for your heartbeat. Only after it slowed to a resting rate did he choose to “sleep”.

 

**> Boot Systems {awake}**

**>** **Power Down {sleep}**

**> Shut Down**

**> Delete Memory**

**> Stand By **

 

**[Set Time: 7:00 a.m.]**

**Powering Down…**

* * *

 


End file.
